


The Case of the Unintended Babysitter

by Sherlycakes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Babysitting, Boys Kissing, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hidden Talent, M/M, Parentlock, Post-Season 4, Tumblr: sherlockchallenge, my s4 fix-it, parentlockish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:43:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9414506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlycakes/pseuds/Sherlycakes
Summary: John needs a babysitter for Rosie but everyone he calls is busy or unavailable. Who will he get to watch Rosie so he can stay late at the clinic?  There was no one left to ask except Sherlock.Sherlock? Hmmmm....





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Sherlock Challenge for January 2017: Hidden Talent](http://sherlockchallenge.tumblr.com/post/155247284483/happy-new-year-everyone-hope-2017-will-treat-us)
> 
> Not Brit-picked. Not beta'd. Any mistakes are my own. I do not own any of the BBC Sherlock characters. I just love them with all my heart and think about them obsessively.

It finally happened two months after John had moved back to Baker Street. Two doctors called in sick for the late afternoon shift after the clinic had already been swamped with flu cases since the morning. They were begging him to stay late and he felt like he couldn’t say no this time. Not after all the time off they’d given him to help Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson with the rebuilding of 221B. So John said he stay, provided he could find someone to pick up Rosie from the sitter to watch her for the rest of the afternoon.

Child care for Rosie hadn’t been a problem for John since Mike Stamford put him in contact with a pediatric nurse named Emma not long after Mary was killed. She watched a small group of children at her home on her days off from Barts. She was declared safe by Sherlock, who could deduce nothing more sinister about her than an occasional overindulgence in toffee ice cream (and well, John himself had been known to do that too, ok?). Thus, Rosie had begun staying with Emma while John helped Sherlock with 221B.

He had taken some accrued leave and vacation days in order to be there while Baker Street was refurbished. John wasn’t about to miss out on putting 221B back to rights. In truth, he had a few things he specifically wanted to supervise...and well, he’d already bought some bright yellow spray paint just in case.

John knew Sherlock needed him, even wanted him there. 221B was the place Sherlock had called home the longest as an adult and it had been hard to watch him deal with seeing it in shambles after the explosion. At the same time, John thought they _might_ be on the cusp of something. Something that had been intensifying as of late. Something that had been there all along but had never had the chance to grow fully. Something that had begun to solidify while they worked together repairing the flat. John was willing to keep things as they were if he had to, but he was also hoping like hell his return to 221B could push them toward what he felt they were always meant to become.

Thankfully, when the work was complete Emma had offered to continue watching Rosie even when John went back to his part-time shifts at the clinic. As long as it lined up with her days off from the children’s ward, she was happy to have Rosie over.So, between Emma and the ever-helpful Mrs. Hudson, John was confident enough about his childcare situation to go back to work when Baker Street was restored to normal.

Well, a new sort of normal for them with Baby Rosie now added to the mix.

When the clinic asked him to stay late, John first called Mrs. Hudson to see if she could get Rosie from Emma’s for the afternoon. After six unanswered rings, John gave up. Maybe she was at the shops? No. She was probably out driving the Aston like a rally car racer. It hadn’t escaped John’s notice that she’d been doing that a bit more as of late.

He called Molly next, on the off chance she wasn’t working at Barts today. But of course she was currently elbows deep in a cadaver and wouldn’t be off for another two hours at least. “So sorry, John!”

Mike Stamford was a no-go. He had started teaching a night class on Wednesdays, which naturally was today.

John briefly considered calling Lestrade. His youngest was eight years old and loved to play with Rosie. Then he remembered Sherlock had been complaining loudly that Greg was on holiday to attend the wedding of his favourite niece and how dare he leave without finding him a good double-murder to solve before he left?

Sherlock. Sherlock? _Hmmmm_.

It wasn’t that John didn’t trust Sherlock with Rosie. In fact, Sherlock had been nothing but wonderful with her since they’d both moved into Baker Street.

He had been careful to keep his experiments well out of the way of her probing little fingers. There was now a designated spot on the kitchen countertop for bottle preparation.

He hadn’t complained at all on the nights she didn’t sleep very well. He had even played for her one evening when she was particularly fussy and clearly no one was getting any sleep if she wasn’t. John stood beside Sherlock, swaying side to side with his crying daughter, while he played softly and sweetly. It had worked like a charm.

“Was there ever any doubt, John? Brahms’ Lullaby is one of the first things I learned to play as a child,” Sherlock whispered as John passed by carrying Rosie’s sleeping form up the stairs to her cot.

No, John trusted Sherlock with both his life and Rosie’s. It was just that John didn’t want to impose on Sherlock by asking him to keep Rosie when he had to work. Solving cases was what Sherlock lived for and he was the only one who could do it in the amazing way that he did.

John already felt it was a lot to ask for both he and Rosie to simply be living back at the flat. Adding a baby to their lives wasn’t anything Sherlock had planned for. Yet he had accepted them without question, welcomed them with grace and kindness, essentially choosing a new kind of normal for the three of them.

Deep down, John cautiously hoped the two of them could have a chance at a life together.  And he told himself that Sherlock was a busy consulting detective who shouldn’t have to say no to a case because he was stuck taking care of a baby. Especially taking care of _John’s_ baby. It was just too much to ask. That wasn’t getting back to normal at all.

Yet this time, he felt pressured to stay at the clinic. He had Rosie to think about now. This job needed to last.

With this on his mind, John called Sherlock-his best friend and last resort. He picked up immediately, sounding worried. “John. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”  

“Hey there. Everything’s alright, but they really need me to stay late at the clinic today. Do you think you could pick up Rosie at three and watch her just until I can get off at six? Emma can fill you in on when she needs to be fed again and stuff like that.”  

John heard Sherlock take a quick little breath before he answered. “Yes, John, I can watch Rosie for you. This experiment isn’t turning out like I had planned anyway. I’ll pick her up and bring her right back to the flat.”

John gave a small sigh of relief. “I hate to ask you to do this, Sherlock. I know you’re busy. It’ll be just this once, okay? And you can always call me here at the clinic if you have any problems.”

Sherlock huffed into the phone before saying, “John, this is not an inconvenience. I’m surprised you hadn’t asked before now. It’s all fine. Good luck sorting out those flu cases this afternoon. We’ll see you after your shift.”

John chuckled as he ended the call. Leave it to Sherlock to correctly diagnose his entire afternoon roster of patients without even seeing them. He hoped the flat would still be in one piece when he returned.


	2. TWO

When six o’clock finally rolled around, John splurged on a cab back to Baker street to save time. He had steadily grown more worried as his shift wore on. He hoped that Rosie hadn’t given Sherlock too much trouble. Images of a red-faced squalling daughter and a worn-out frustrated detective flew through this mind. Please, please, let her have been a good girl.

Wait.

For that matter, please let _Sherlock_ have been good, too.

John practically threw the notes for the fare at the cabbie and rushed through the outside door of the flat. He ran up the stairs to 221B, flung the door open, and stumbled inside.

And there on the floor in front of the sofa, sitting in Sherlock’s lap, happily banging two plastic petri dishes together, was Rosie. She was wearing a bright purple footed sleeper with tiny bumblebees printed around the cuffs and collar. Her hair was clean and brushed and her face looked freshly washed.

Sherlock was wearing a tea towel John had never seen before over his shoulder, presumably to protect his dressing gown and pajamas from any errant spit up from Rosie. His hands held a soft-sided book about flowers and Rosie’s favorite toy, a small stuffed fox Sherlock had bought for her not long after they moved back to Baker Street.

Strewn around them was the evidence of their afternoon together. The skull sat to Sherlock’s left, clearly bearing a few new teeth marks along the frontal bone. There was a wobbly tower of plastic test tubes stacked on the coffee table. A pile of orange shock blankets was in front of the fireplace with a Rosie-shaped indention that could only have come from an earlier nap. Several other children’s books were wedged in the sofa cushions, previously read and then discarded. And was that a package of Tesco-brand kiddie apple crisps on the coffee table? Where did those even come from?

Notedly absent from this tableau were any case notes, crime scene photos, body parts, or hazardous chemicals.

“Oh, hello, John,” Sherlock said without looking away from Rosie, apparently unaware of John’s disbelief at the sight of them contentedly playing together. “I see you took a cab home instead of the tube today.”

John watched as he gently guided Rosie’s hand away from hitting him in the nose with one of the petri dishes. “I think she’s just about ready for her night time bottle. Her eyes have been closing at a steadily increasing rate for the last five minutes. Did you want to give it to her or shall I?”

John stammered, “Uh..well, I guess, er…”

Sherlock looked up sharply upon hearing his confusion. “Are you alright?” 

John quickly covered his bewilderment by heading straight for the kitchen. He called back over his shoulder, “I’m fine! Just a bit tired is all. I’ll warm up her bottle. Did you want some tea while I’m at it?”

“Yes, please,” Sherlock replied. Then John overheard him whisper to Rosie, “Your daddy makes the best cuppa. Did you know that? It’s my favorite, but don’t tell Hudders.”

John placed both of his hands palms down on the counter, leaned forward, and lowered his head. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Rosie was fine. More than fine. And it was all thanks to Sherlock who seemed remarkably comfortable in the company of a baby. He might have known that posh git would be as brilliant with babysitting children as he was with everything else he tried. He’d been worried for nothing. Everything was alright.

But John still wondered how Sherlock, the self-proclaimed world’s only consulting detective, became so adept at babysitting. He’d just have to do some investigating of his own.

When John finished giving Rosie her bottle and tucking her in for the night, he came back downstairs to find Sherlock on the floor clearing away their pile of toys from the afternoon. John took a seat in his chair by the fireplace and said, “Sherlock, come here a minute please. I have something I want to ask you.”

Sherlock stood up and walked to his chair across from John, still clutching Rosie’s stuffed fox. “John, I know you were worried about me taking care of Rosie but as you can see-”

“Stop right there, Sherlock,” John interrupted. “Yes, I was a bit worried about you babysitting Rosie today. Maybe even more than a bit. And I hadn’t intended to ask you to do that for me. I know it’s not your job.”

John ran a hand down his face. “But when I saw you two together tonight I knew I was wrong to be worried. You were amazing with her! She was so happy with you. Why didn’t you ever say you were good with kids?”

Sherlock looked down at his hands which were absentmindedly stroking the toy fox’s long ears. “I guess because you never asked, John. I'd already deduced you didn’t want to leave Rosie with me as you took great pains to find reputable child care for her in the form of Emma and Mrs. Hudson. I admit I’m not the sort of person one usually thinks of first when looking for a babysitter.” His mouth twisted into a rueful smile as he slowly looked up at John.

“Oh, Sherlock. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to leave her with _you_. I just knew you had more important things to do than watch my kid. I hate the thought of you turning down a case just because I need a temporary sitter,” John countered.

Sherlock sat back in his chair, closed his eyes, and sighed. “John. Rosie is important to me because you are important to me. She is a part of you. No case is worth that. It will never, _never_ , be a bother for me to watch her if you need me to do so. ”  

John felt a tightening in his chest as those words reached him. Sherlock really cared about them. Both of them. Yes, he had shown it in many ways these past few months but this was the first time he’d ever voiced it aloud to John. He looked across warmly at his best friend. The person who had saved him so many times he’d stopped counting.

However, Sherlock was anxiously looking back at John evidently expecting to be chastised for his candor. “Sherlock, hey! Hey now. It’s okay. What you said it was good, yeah? Better than good. Extraordinary.”

Sherlock ducked his head and said softly, “You really think so?”

John leaned forward and placed his left hand over Sherlock’s, which were still rubbing the fox’s ears. “Yes, of course I do. Yes.”

Grey-green eyes looked up at John through long dark lashes. “Thank you,” Sherlock said quietly. John pressed his forehead to Sherlock’s while moving his other hand to cup the nape of his neck. He could feel Sherlock’s shoulders hitch slightly as he let out the breath he’d apparently been holding.

John knew this was it. This was the moment he’d been desperately hoping for, the opportunity he’d been cautiously trying to make happen since he’d come home to Sherlock. There was not a chance in hell Captain Watson was going to back down now. So John tipped his chin up and gently pressed his lips to Sherlock’s, lightly pulling him downward, sliding his fingertips into those dark curls he’d long dreamt of touching.

Sherlock gasped faintly and dropped Rosie’s toy as he brought his arms up and around John’s neck. He tugged John toward him, parting his knees so that John’s slid in between them. John smiled into Sherlock’s kiss and tenderly drew his tongue across that impossibly full bottom lip, coaxing his detective to let him inside.

Sherlock pulled back to look at John briefly, eyes wide and wild. “Please, John,” he murmured in a low voice that raced up John’s back like wildfire.

He pushed his hands deeper into Sherlock’s hair and hauled him into a searing kiss. John slid his tongue alongside Sherlock’s, tasting tea and honey and something else that was all Sherlock. He felt Sherlock echo his desire, swirling his tongue in John’s mouth, obviously cataloging John’s every reaction as they kissed. He broke away panting and buried his face in Sherlock’s neck, breathing deeply. There was a faint scent of baby shampoo mixed with Sherlock’s own ridiculously expensive brand. To John, it smelled of home.

Gradually, John loosened his grip on Sherlock and leaned back to see him further. Sherlock had his eyes closed, his cheeks delightfully flushed. He was still holding onto the back of John’s arms tightly as if he was afraid John would disappear at any moment. His thick lashes fluttered open when John spoke.

“Was that okay,” John asked quietly.

Sherlock tenderly slid his hands down John’s arms to clutch his hands in his own. Then he caught John’s eyes and held them. He deliberately raised both of the doctor’s hands to his lips, brushing kisses across John’s knuckles. “Oh yes, John. It was...that is...ah, well. Yes. Absolutely yes.”

John felt his breath leave him in a rush. Those sweetly stammered words were everything he wanted to hear. “Sherlock, please. Come sit with me on the sofa. I want to hold you properly.”

John stood up and walked over to the sofa, never letting go of Sherlock’s hand. He positioned himself with his back leaned against the sofa’s arm and his legs open in a vee across the cushions, leaving plenty of room for Sherlock to lie down between them and lay his head on John’s shoulder. He put his arms around Sherlock’s shoulders and held him close. He slowly ran his fingers up and down Sherlock’s back along the edge of his spine. John noticed the tension in Sherlock’s body dissipate the longer they laid together. Sherlock let out a rumbling groan, practically purring at John’s touch.

“Hey, Sherlock,” John asked after a bit more cuddling.

“Mmmmm?” Sherlock seemed so relaxed he could barely answer.

“Where’d you learn how to babysit anyway?”

Sherlock rubbed his cheekbone across John’s collarbone, nuzzling closer into his neck as he began to explain. “Well, it’s Lestrade’s fault, really. My, ah, sobriety was not the only condition he insisted upon before he would let me in on some of his cases at first. His daughters were one and three at the time and he was still trying to make things work with his wife.”

John sensed Sherlock’s eye roll, even though he couldn’t see his face.

“So Lestrade told me I’d also have to watch after his children while he went out for, ugh, date nights once per week. He’d already signed me up for an infant-toddler first aid course and a basic babysitting course at Barts that same day. I had to go. It was either that or try to find another D.I. to let me in on cases and you know as well as I do that Lestrade is really the only one who likes me...for some unknown reason.”

John pictured a young, stroppy, twenty-something Sherlock stuck with dozens of teenage kids in a hospital supervised babysitting course. It was all he could do not to laugh out loud. He couldn’t hide the slight shaking of his chest from his stifled giggles however.

“Stop it, John,” Sherlock chided, albeit with no real heat. “I know what you’re thinking. Yes, I was miserable. But at the time I was willing to do whatever it took to be allowed on cases. So I went to the courses and when I got my completion certificates, I began babysitting for Lestrade weekly.”

His voice softened as he continued. “It turned out that his girls were something I never expected. Children are such sponges, soaking up information about our world and human behavior at a rate I’d never seen. I realized the opportunity to see how they grew and reacted to other people could be invaluable to me as a detective. Plus, children aren’t afraid to say with they think. Millie and Abigail seemed to like me and oddly enough, thought I was funny. Over time, I liked them too.”

Sherlock sat up and looked at John with a wistful expression. “I kept them just about each week for nearly three years. During that time, I learned a great deal about taking care of children and a great deal about myself. Realistically, I knew it would probably be the only time I’d ever help raise a child. I even helped Molly a few times with that gaggle of nieces she has, but I swore her to secrecy. A babysitting detective wasn’t exactly the reputation I was trying to create.”

He tilted his head down and whispered, “At least, that’s what I thought until I met you. And then your Rosie.”

John rose up to face Sherlock. He placed both of his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders. “Sherlock, look at me. Look at me, please.” Tentatively, he raised his head and met John’s earnest blue eyes.

“You have been so good to Rosie and me. I hoped there might be a chance for the three of us to be a family when I moved back in there with you. I love you, you know. You must know, don’t you? You never stop astonishing me. But this time it was your kindness to both of us that floored me. Having a baby around the flat could have meant the end of our friendship. Now I think it may well be the start of the rest of our lives together.”

John took a deep breath.

“That is, if that’s what you want, too. Is it, Sherlock?”

Sherlock’s eyes shone with unshed tears as he answered. “Yes, John. Oh God yes. I love you, too.”

John drew Sherlock to him in a fierce hug. He found he was also on the verge of crying. They had been through so much. So much sadness. So much time wasted. It was incredible to think it was finally all in the past. That this was going to be a new beginning for them. A new life together, just the three of them.

John brought his hands up to cradle Sherlock’s head. He turned his face toward Sherlock, hoping to capture his lips in another kiss, when Rosie let out a doleful wail from upstairs.

“Well,” John chuckled regretfully, “I guess I’ll have to wait a bit for that next kiss.”

Sherlock popped up from the couch and said, “Not for long, John. Let me tend to her. I bet she’s just missing Fen. Can you toss him to me and I’ll take him right up to Rosie.”

“Fen?” John looked around the room. “Who are you talking about? Rosie doesn’t have a doll called that.”

Sherlock looked exasperated, clearly thinking John was an idiot. _I’m your idiot, though, aren’t I now?_ John thought.

“It’s the fox, John,” Sherlock sighed. “The one I was holding. It fell under the coffee table earlier.”  

John remained confused. “But Fen? When did it get that name?”

“Today,” Sherlock said. “It _is_ a Fennec Fox, John. Obviously. Look at the unusually large ears! So, we named it Fen.”

Sherlock stooped over to grab the small toy and bounded up the stairs headed to a now desperate sounding Rosie. “I’ll be right back,” he called out as he went.

As John watched him go, he thought he was lucky to have needed someone to watch Rosie today. He’d found the one babysitter he couldn’t live without.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr!](https://bakingsherlycakes.tumblr.com/)


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